


Between the Dust and the Debris

by A_Lonely_Soul (ImpendingExodus)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (very very little comfort anyway), Blood and Injury, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 03:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15379533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpendingExodus/pseuds/A_Lonely_Soul
Summary: Keith’s world had been shattered months ago with the death of the Black Paladin. But now it’s broken again, more literally as the pavement cracks underfoot and sends him plummeting down in an avalanche of rock and metal. When Keith wakes, he’s in terrible pain and completely alone. How fitting. Shiro died alone too. Only... there’s the faint silhouette of someone up ahead. Gathering the last of his strength, Keith crawls toward the light.





	Between the Dust and the Debris

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Keith Mini Bang](http://keithminibang.tumblr.com/), where I got paired with two _amazing_ artists!
> 
> Check out Meowlettee's art [here](http://meowlettee.tumblr.com/post/176134017819/this-isnt-right-he-thought-dully-in-some-corner)!!
> 
> And more art by Doughnutturtle [here](https://doughnutturtle.tumblr.com/post/176145861243/i-i-always-wanted-to-kiss-you-under-the-stars)!
> 
> Also a HUGE thanks to my beta, Castaway!!
> 
> Title from Kate Miller-Heidke's song ["Last Day on Earth"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1GU8Ekk8Pbs).

By the end of the day, Keith will be dead.

That fact hangs intangibly in the air as he preps for the upcoming mission -- there’s no way for him to know it, no way for him to foresee the future, nothing he can do to change it. He doesn’t know as he puts on his paladin armor that he’s doing it for the last time. He won’t tighten these buckles again, won’t flex his fingers to settle the thick gloves in place. He won’t walk the familiar corridor to the Red Lion’s bay ever again.

Even if he had known it, Keith wouldn’t have done anything differently. Maybe he’d have tarried a bit longer, taken a last look around his sparse bedroom, patted Red’s paw fondly as he strode past into her waiting mouth. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have charged straight ahead, eyes only for the objective, since the whole world had lost its color for him a long time ago. Because truthfully, Keith had died many months ago.

But, for now, with the lion’s purr running through him and the lights of the cockpit washing him blood-red, Keith is alive. Very much so, very much eager to launch and lose himself to the laser focus of a high-stakes mission.

According to Pidge’s hacking, this planet was the site of Sendak’s main base. With the Galra Empire in chaos after Zarkon’s death, multiple warlords had risen to power but Sendak had the witch by his side and was well set to dominate the universe. This was one of his tactical bases, the one he retired to between battles, the one where all his intel was funneled through. Taking it out would severely weaken Sendak’s position.

At the moment, Blade reports indicated that Haggar was on the far side of the quadrant, and it was most likely that her puppet was at her side. So with the two most important figures absent, this planet was guarded by only a skeleton fleet. Now was the perfect time to strike -- one paladin could slip into the base to gather much-needed intel, while the others wreaked havoc among the fleet. Two birds with one stone, and with the stolen information there might be a way to bring down Sendak and Haggar too.

Keith’s comm system crackled to life.

“Paladins, are you all ready to launch?” Allura’s voice was calm and prepared. As the Black Paladin should be. As Shiro’s voice had been, so many times on so many missions --

“Ready when you are, princess,” Lance answered, echoed by Pidge and Hunk. Keith grunted an affirmation and tightened his grip on Red’s control levers. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.

“Launch!”

The castle had been hidden behind a small moon, but once the lions broke cover and came in sight of the orbital fleet, there was no need for secrecy. Two cruisers went up in flames simultaneously as Blue and Yellow gunned full speed ahead. 

Keith glanced to his left and saw Pidge deflecting hits with her shield, then zipping in close to use her vine cannon. Black -- Allura -- was up ahead, a blur of glowing wings that left a trail of destruction in its wake. Galra fighters swarmed like hornets but Keith ignored them for the most part, trusting in Red’s shields as he plowed through the middle. With his Marmora training and the knowledge to operate Galra technology, he’d been assigned to collect data from the base.

As much as he wanted to stay and fight, to see Sendak’s ships break apart and burn until the vacuum of space killed the flames, he had to stay focused. Retrieving this data meant that they could track Sendak’s movements in the future. They could bring him to justice on Voltron’s terms and Keith could have his revenge. 

But for now Sendak wasn’t even on the planet and there were more important things at hand. Hatred was an old fire in Keith; he had stoked that darkness in his soul for months, the bitterness building inside him with every tear he refused to shed. Someday he would get to face his prey. 

Someday Shiro would be avenged.

So Keith dove through the storm of lasers, twisting Red from side to side in a bare-bones evasive course. One shot grazed the lion’s flank and she growled; the pulse of anger echoed in Keith’s mind and he spun around, one shot from the main cannon enough to annihilate a squad of fighters. 

Red snarled in triumph and it was only with difficulty that Keith pulled her head around to face the planet again. She wanted to fight as much as he did. Or was he only projecting? Ever since Allura had stepped up as Black Paladin, all the lions had been more temperamental than before; their guns were on a hair trigger and Red’s low tide of irritability was a constant hum in Keith’s mind.

But no one else seemed to be having trouble in battle. They functioned as well as they ever did, Lance and Hunk always in sync, Pidge capable off on her own... Keith couldn’t bring himself to look at Black. He gritted his teeth and felt the jaw blade power up in response, its edge glowing deadly silver.

Another fighter swept past and he lashed out with a paw, frowning as he only managed to nick the wing. Allura swooped in behind to finish it off as Keith engaged the booster engines. The sooner he got down to the Galra base and back, the sooner he could help mop up the fleet. He couldn’t think of much else to look forward to besides that.

The planet loomed large in front of him, its mottled, gray-red surface resolving itself into a twisted landscape of sharp crags and steep-walled ravines deep enough that the bottom didn’t reflect sunlight. Red’s scanners indicated that the base was just ahead. Cutting speed, Keith coasted through the mountain peaks until the dark metal buildings came into sight. The base was built hugging the sheer rock, ugly rectangular shapes seemingly stuck to the mountainside by stubbornness alone. The central building was large enough to have a landing dock jutting out and Keith settled Red down gingerly. The concrete and metal didn’t look strong enough to support a lion, but it held for the moment.

All he needed was a moment.

Shots were already exploding against Red’s face and chest as the few sentries on duty took up defensive formations. The lion swiveled her head, letting Keith get a look at the entire area as he grimaced at his choices. He could dash past the guards and get into the base easily, but getting back out would be a problem. Or he could stay here and use the lion’s cannon to blast away the enemy... and potentially weaken the landing dock. Red pressed against his mind, feeding impatience into his thoughts, and his bayard materialized in his hand. What were a few Galra drones compared to a paladin?

_ What was a single Galra commander against a Voltron paladin? _

_ \- Death, that’s what it was. _

Spinning on his heel, Keith raced from the cockpit, leaping from the lion’s open mouth into the thick of the sentries. Left-right, two were down. Shield up, dodge and roll, uppercut a third and send the helmet rolling. Keith didn’t bother with the remaining guards; his jetpack ate up the distance to the main entrance, and by the time the sentries had recovered and were finding him in their sights, Keith was already sealing the door and hurrying off in search of the central terminal.

Once inside, the adrenaline rush of battle seemed so far away. The corridor was dim and the stone gave only muffled echoes underfoot. It felt like walking into a tomb and Keith found himself moving slower and slower, trying to quiet his footsteps and stay unnoticed. There was no sign of any sentries -- maybe they’d all gone to pilot the fighters as a first line of defense? -- and the atmosphere felt dead.

No, not dead. Holding its breath, waiting, waiting.

Keith didn’t have time to wait. There was nothing here for him; he needed to be back in the battle, tearing Galra ships to pieces until he couldn’t remember why he was hurting.

He sped up, boots ringing harsh against the floor, taking the route that Pidge had showed him on the map. The terminal should be just ahead, around a corner and through a set of doors locked by a passcode. Once he was in, he’d have to locate the files they were looking for, connect the data chip, download as much as would fit --

A blur of motion flashed in his peripheral vision and on instinct Keith ducked, bayard blade manifesting as he turned to face his attacker.

A furred, purple face was twisted into a snarl, one eye glowing red and the other glinting quintessence-yellow. Echoes of a roar sounded in Keith’s ears as he dodged back; a huge metal claw swiped the air where he’d just been standing.

Sendak!

The thought rang in his mind like a battle horn. It didn’t matter why the Galra commander was down here instead of with his fleet; it didn’t matter that Keith’s mission was on a timer. This was the monster who’d killed Shiro. Left him to die with pain on his face. Stripped away the only life that Keith had ever cared about.

Sendak gave him no time to think further as the weaponized prosthetic glowed intense purple. The air reeked of tainted quintessence, making Keith’s hair stand on end and his lips draw up into a growl. The bayard was all but quivering in his hand, the rage and impatience from Red flooding into his mind. The lions were just as upset as the paladins at losing one of their own, and there was only the crystal clear drive of  _ revenge _ .

Keith dodged back again, aware that the corridor was sealed off behind him. Not that he wanted to escape anyway. But he had to be careful; he’d seen the end result of a one-on-one fight already.

Step back again, feign a stumble, then lunge forward. The red and white blade missed Sendak’s flesh arm by mere inches.

“Another paladin,” the fanged mouth spat. “It seems you all have a death wish. Very well; I shall oblige.”

Anger boiled but Keith stayed silent. He needed to wait for an opening, not be goaded into a frenzy. The coldness of death seemed to wrap around him and he all but laughed at the frustrated confusion in Sendak’s one eye.

_ Patience yields focus. _

“You lack the fire of the Black Paladin,” the Galra said, and Keith gritted his teeth into a skull’s grin.

The claw swiped again and he jumped forward, inside the deadly grasp, close enough to Sendak that Keith could feel the reeking heat coming off his body. Too close for the long-bladed bayard, but the Marmora knife was already in his left hand, glancing off the commander’s breastplate and finding a seam at his shoulder.

Keith drove the dagger in with all the strength he could muster and twisted it as Sendak roared in pain. Then the prosthetic snaked around, an unnatural angle but there was no arm attached, and seized him around the waist. Claws dug razor-sharp into his belly as Keith was lifted and thrown down the corridor, sliding on the stone floor and slamming into the far wall.

Blood pounded in his ears and the red lion lashed out, hard enough that the hallway shook with the impact of laser blasts, fierce enough that Keith was back on his feet before he realized it. He charged Sendak, swinging both weapons up, focused on hitting the injured left side that the Galra tried to shield.

The dagger rebounded off of armor but the bayard hit its mark. Sendak staggered back, doubled over in pain, but it was a ruse as the giant claw connected once more with Keith’s body. Four lines of fire traced across his lower abdomen where the paladin armor didn’t reach. It burned, but the pain was shallow. He could keep fighting.

He  _ had _ to keep fighting.

For Shiro.

Another swing and slash, ducking the fangs that lunged at his face when he danced too close. Keith found another weak point, his knife slicing smoothly along the outside of a thick thigh -- but the tip of it lodged in the knee armor and it was ripped from his hand as Sendak spun away.

By now the whole corridor was shaking like an earthquake; hairline cracks appeared in the stone as Red continued her assault on the outside. Keith reached out to her but was met with only blindness, hate and anger overwhelming his mind for a moment before he withdrew in shock. If he couldn’t count on his own lion, then he was truly alone down here with his mortal enemy.

Several yards away, Sendak watched him with mismatched red and yellow eyes. “Call off your beast,” he growled, spitting dark blood on the floor. “Call it off or we both die. This base isn’t built to withstand such an attack.”

Keith closed his eyes a moment and breathed slowly. Sliding his left foot back, he braced in a ready position, bayard pointing dead ahead even though it was feeling lead-heavy in his hand.

“Then we’ll die,” he said.

The cracks yawned open underfoot, stone and metal roaring, cascading down into the darkness, and Sendak yelled as he fell with the ruins of his base. Keith fell too, but he was silent, smiling grimly as the world shattered around him.

\----

Shiro had died alone.

That knowledge had been almost as hard to bear as the expression of pain frozen onto his face when the paladins found him in the council chamber. It was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting -- something so commonplace now with the new alliance -- and Shiro had gone there alone to meet the delegates. Keith had been off on a different mission at the time, although he couldn’t remember what could have been so important that he wasn’t able to be at the Black Paladin’s side.

Only it hadn’t been a diplomatic meeting at all; it had been a trap.

Shiro had walked right into it and even though he’d fought, even though the blood on the floor and on his hands showed how hard he’d clung to life, it hadn’t been enough.

Keith couldn’t look at his face for more than a glance. That wasn’t Shiro. Shiro was alive, and though his expression was often somber, it wasn’t like what his face was fixed into now. Terrified. Hurting. Desolate and  _ alone _ in his hour of need.

It wasn’t any better when they took him back aboard the castle and laid him out on a table. The other paladins took so long to pay their respects, lingering with tears and words of comfort to each other, while Keith stood apart and said nothing. At last they left the room and Keith had to confront the silence that choked the air.

_ I’m sorry _ he wanted to say, but talking to a corpse was stupid. There was nothing left to say. Shiro couldn’t hear him no matter how pitifully Keith begged him to come back, so Keith didn’t try. He stayed rooted in the corner and couldn’t find the strength to lift his gaze from the floor.

It felt like his heart had stopped and a block of stone had descended into his chest, stalling his breathing into a slow steady rate. His throat ached but every time he opened his mouth, there were too many words trying to get out. Nothing mattered anyway.

Keith stood a moment longer, fighting with himself. He couldn’t just leave the room without seeing Shiro one last time. Thinking of it that way made it seem like such a monumental occasion.  _ Last time _ ought to be reserved for stars about to go nova, old buildings about to be torn down. Events that marked the end of an era.

This didn’t feel monumental at all; it hardly felt real.

Keith raised his head and walked up to the table with a measured stride. Now that Shiro had been prepared for burial, dressed in an all-white suit of armor, his features relaxed and manipulated into a serene expression, it seemed even less real. Shiro ought to have died victorious, bayard in hand and fallen enemies at his feet. He ought to have gone out in a blaze of glory, burned down the building and left nothing behind, ascended with the smoke to heaven.

Now he looked as pathetic and hollow as a broken china doll.

Keith reached up one hand, thought better of it, then settled his palm anyway across Shiro’s forehead. The white tuft flattened under his touch and he could feel clamminess seeping into his fingers. Jerking his hand back, he wiped it on his thigh and turned away from the table.

_ \- This isn’t right _ , he thought dully in some corner of his mind.

_ Of course it isn’t right! Shiro’s dead! _

_ \- No, the not-right is your reaction to it. Cry. Scream. Hold him in your arms. _

But Keith’s mouth was a flat line, his eyes hard and dry, and he left the room for the last time and didn’t look back.

\----

Keith awoke to pain. Even before he opened his eyes, he could see red and black pulsing in turn inside his skull, pounding away at his bones with relentless force. It felt like a marching tempo and he was the drum, being beaten relentlessly.

But he had to force his eyes open eventually, the too-bright sunlight burning white and sterile against his face. He’d lost his helmet somehow in the fall and the dryness of the thin atmosphere pricked at his skin. So there was no way to call for help from the others. That was fine. He could do this on his own.

Forcing his watering gaze higher, Keith took in the slopes of rubble surrounding him, the broken pieces of the Galra base and the empty sky far above, and realized that  _ on his own _ might be harder than he’d thought. What else was there to do? Sit there and wait until the demons throbbing in his skull broke their way out?

Harsh shadows cut the steep slopes into jagged sections, each rock and bit of metal outlined like a comic book’s inking. Farther ahead, along a narrow path that looked mostly clear, a swath of darkness rose along the mountainside -- part of a wall had survived, the lower level of the base with a flight of steps leading up farther than he could currently see.

The ground trembled under where Keith was lying and his mind immediately flashed to Red. Landing here wouldn’t be safe, not when the smallest movement could cause another avalanche, but she could call the other paladins for him. But as much as he strained to feel her mind touch against his, there was only the faintest echo of pain along their bond. The lion sent him the feeling of being trapped, buried under so much weight, quintessence tanks leaking out and bleeding, bleeding their precious life force onto thirsty rocks.

So Red couldn’t come get him. Fine. He could do this on his own, he thought again.

The stairs looked promising and they were only a few yards away. Once there, he could plan how best to reach Red and get out of here. He could give her his own quintessence if needed, just enough to boost them both back into space where the castle could pick them up.

Now...

How to get to the stairs.

His eyes blinked and watered against the dust that filled them. That small movement sent another needle of pain through his head, but he took a fortifying breath and steadied his thinking. The building had collapsed; who knew how long until it fell all the way to the foot of the mountains miles below. He had to get out soon; might as well start now.

Keith inhaled and tried to get his legs under him, but the slightest movement brought another wave of choking pain. Something in his chest was broken, he was sure of it now with every shallow breath. Glancing down at himself, he was puzzled by the piece of rebar seemingly balanced on his stomach. How...? He moved a sluggish hand to brush it off but was met by unyielding resistance. At the same moment, the wet dark patch on his gray undersuit made sense and he let his head fall back against the rubble as his vision blurred.

The metal rod was speared  _ through _ him, holding him in place like a science specimen. Somehow the pain hadn’t reached his mind yet and he was glad for that, even as the nausea of the revelation threatened to overwhelm him. More importantly, his fingers were cold. He tried to raise a hand to his face but only managed to bring his arm up to his chest. He felt so tired. If he could just close his eyes for a moment, take a short while to catch his breath and settle his nerves, then he could go on.

No. He knew better than that. Shock was setting in, and who knew how many other injuries he couldn’t feel yet over the adrenaline rush. He could rest when he was safely back in Red’s cockpit on the way to the castle’s healing pods.

But getting to that point meant moving, and he didn’t want to. He’d have to work his way off the metal spike, hope he didn’t bleed out, drag himself down the rubble-filled valley and then what? If he couldn’t get to Red in time...

It was best not to think too hard. The pain was bad enough as it was; he didn’t need his mind conjuring up descriptions of the damage.  _ Just get to the castle and it won’t matter. Everything will be healed. _

His legs were numb but Keith braced himself with what leverage he could, gripped onto the nearest pieces of rock with white fingers, and sat up. Something caught inside his abdomen and held him down for one panicking moment; then it came loose with a flood of red and he was free. Free to roll forward and curl up in a trembling heap, crying out as his belly was filled with fire and he could feel hot blood soaking his side.

The slopes of debris were dark in his eyes by the time he found strength to raise his head. His vision was faint and blurry and it was cold, so very cold.

It wasn’t worth the effort to stand up. His dignity could handle being dragged through the dirt if it meant he got out alive. So he crawled toward the far end of the ravine -- it could barely be called crawling, as he inched his way forward on his elbows, then sobbing as he pulled his lower half forward inch by inch. His legs were still numb and the lack of pain was worrisome but he cut himself off from caring.

Red. Just find Red and get to the castle. That’s all that mattered.

He could hear his greaves and boots dragging through the gravel, but couldn’t feel it at all.

Surely he must be there by now? But as he dredged up the strength to glance ahead, the ruined stairway looked so far away. It was maybe a dozen strides from where he was lying but at his current progress it felt like miles. And what once he reached it? He knew he’d never have the strength to get up the stairs.

But he kept going anyway because there was nothing else to do. Giving up wasn’t an option, although his brain couldn’t think why not. Survival was written so deep into his soul that he had to keep trying even without a reason, even beyond reason. Keith focused on the way his elbows dug into the ground, bracing shattered armor in the rock and shifting debris, and pulled himself along. Two inches, then two more. Put the other arm forward and gain a little more ground.

Slow, so slow. His suit was still warm and wet against his back and stomach and he registered the belabored pounding in his ears as his own fluttering heartbeat, working against him to push blood out of his broken body.

He gave one last heave and let himself collapse on his chest, head resting limply in the dirt. Dust coated his lips and he swallowed, wishing for water. But as he lay there, his vision cleared enough to make out more of his surroundings. The dark piece of rubble not inches from his face -- he recognized it now. Not rubble at all, but a giant prosthetic hand with dented claws. It was dropped there, deactivated and lifeless, impotent without its owner.

Keith moved his eyes and scanned the rubble behind the arm. There were smears of red on some of the rocks but he couldn’t be sure. The proper thing would be to make sure the mission was finished -- not Pidge’s data gathering mission, but the secret one that had burned in Keith ever since he’d walked out of the funeral chamber.

_ Kill Sendak make him pay make him SUFFER _

But the only suffering right now was Keith’s own. He’d have to hope that the fall had killed the Galra commander; it was a far more merciful death than Keith would have liked, but what was done was done. His own life was more important than Sendak’s death.

He had to move on if he was going to live.

Picking his head up, Keith placed his left arm in front of his right, digging in and gaining another handful of inches. He was what, maybe halfway to the stairs by now? But resuming his journey made his vision flicker again, tunneling down until he could only make out the small circle of dirt right in front of his face. His whole body was cold, arms like lead, fingers frozen into numb fists that he couldn’t force open.

Still the stairs loomed, a dark blot on the edge of his consciousness, and he strove forward with all the determination he had left. Another several inches and he had to collapse again to catch his breath. It was getting harder to move, each inch more exhausting than the one before. Keith rested his chin on the ground and stared up at the stairs. With his tunneling vision, it was hard to make out how far up they went -- maybe they ascended into what was left of the base or maybe they were choked with rubble. He felt that if the latter was the case, the disappointment itself would kill him.

He tried to smile at the dark humor but instead his stomach lurched. Heaving, he choked on liquid that rose up in his throat. He couldn’t breathe for a long minute, his body fighting itself as he tried to inhale and vomit at the same time. At last he swallowed most of it down, thick and viscous, and wiped his mouth with a shaky hand. The glove came away nearly black, glistening in the sharp light.

Breathe, breathe, Keith told himself. Panic welled up in him like blood from a wound, but it was dull and muted and felt too distant to matter. He wasn’t going to die here. That would be stupid. There was still so much left to be done; he’d survived worse before, right? The other paladins would come and take him back to the castle... but for now he was on his own.

“Help,” he called, but his voice was a hoarse groan. “Anyone, please!”

The stony walls didn’t even send up an echo. The silence was crushing him.

_ \- You deserve to die alone. Think of what happened to Shiro -- you weren’t there for him. Why would you deserve anyone to save you? _

_ I’ll do it alone! I’ll save myself! _

_ \- Ha. You think you’re stronger than he was? _

Bracing his hands, he lurched forward again, jostling the wound through his abdomen, his cracked ribs, his raw throat as he coughed up more blood. If he reached out far enough, he could touch the bottom step now.

“I’m not gonna die,” he mouthed to himself. But as he looked up the steep incline, there was a gleam of white in the darkness, a faint form that was coming closer. Keith’s lips formed the word  _ help _ but no sound came. 

He blinked and the silhouette resolved itself against the faint blurry background; he’d know that long easy stride anywhere, the tilt of those shoulders, the concern burning deep in gray eyes as Shiro held out a kindly hand.

“Hello, Keith,” he said.

\----

“I’ve been dying to see you again, Shiro.”

“I know.”

“It’s been so long.”

“It’s only been a few months.”

“But...” Keith let the words dissolve into a sigh. Right now wasn’t the time to be asking questions. He wasn’t sure he wanted the answers, anyway. Shiro was here and that was all that mattered. His brain was too tired to be afraid, too stoked on sudden happiness to focus on the details.

Like how Shiro was dressed in all-white armor that had the faintest glow around the edges. Like how his hair was also pure white. His eyes were brighter, his smile sad. When he moved there was no sound, no breath, no scuff of boots on stone.

It was like looking at the scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Keith had an idea of how everything fit together, and he felt that he  _ ought _ to understand the big picture, but. But it was easier not to. The big picture was dark and ugly and it was so much better to rest here on the cool stone, in the shade of the shattered wall out of the sun’s glare, and let his breathing calm with Shiro so close by.

Shiro sat on the next to last step and regarded him calmly; a bit too calmly, Keith thought, considering the mess he must look. But that was less important than the way Shiro moved his foot out of reach when Keith gathered the strength to lift a hand toward him.

“Shiro --” Keith said at last, plaintive.

“I’m right here.” He shifted and leaned down so Keith could rest his head and still make eye contact. “I’ll get out of your way if you’re going to climb the stairs.”

Keith rocked his head side to side minutely. “Don’t wanna move.”

“You can’t stay here. Another earthquake could hit any moment.”

“But you’re here. I just want to stay with you.”

Shiro gave him a mournful smile. “You don’t want to stay with me, not really. Don’t you want to live? You have to keep moving.”

Keith lowered his eyes to the fine gravel in front of his face. How could he tell Shiro? The funeral chamber, the way the Black Paladin’s skin had been chill and sallow, the way that all emotions had drained out of Keith that day. As much as it hurt to think about, that pain was already fading here in Shiro’s presence. Just a glance at his face, so alive with gentle emotion, was enough to erase all else.

Words bubbled up in Keith like the blood in his lungs, and like that blood they spilled out from his lips without hesitation. “You think I want to live without you? I’d rather d--”

“No!”

Keith had enough spark left that he cocked an eyebrow at Shiro’s shout.

“The choice is yours, Keith,” he said more gently. It sounded like there was a weight on his heart. “Don’t make it lightly. I don’t want you to regret anything you say in the heat of the moment.”

“Even if I don’t say it, I still feel it,” Keith replied, but he let the subject rest. His throat was hurting; he was so thirsty.

The silence dragged on and Keith felt his eyelids slipping shut with their own weight.

“Hey now, none of that.” Shiro leaned down, so close that Keith ought to have felt breath on his cheek, but instead there was only an aura of utter cold. “Unless... you’re ready?” His hand hovered mere inches away and the chill of it sank into Keith’s bones.

“No,” he said at last. “Not yet.”

But Keith didn’t move and only went back to counting each breath he took.

\----

“I wish this moment had come sooner.” Keith couldn’t meet Shiro’s eyes but he found focus in the lines of the other man’s neck, the cant of his shoulders. “I’d like to share more with you than just my deathbed.”

Because he was watching so closely, he could see Shiro’s throat bob as the other man bit back emotions. “So you realize what’s happening?”

“The others won’t get to me in time, will they? But I’m glad you’re here.”

Shiro reached out, a finger crooked to catch the teardrop rolling down Keith’s cheek, but he stopped before he touched skin. “I was sent to come get you.”

Keith’s chuckle turned into a wet cough. “The reaper’s too afraid to come get me himself?”

“I volunteered,” Shiro said. Of course he did. He always volunteered for everything -- even watching his best friend drown in his own blood -- because he cared too much. Keith’s heart beat like a fist in his chest but he still couldn’t find the right words to say.

There wasn’t much to say to that, anyway. It would take too much breath that he didn’t have to question Shiro further. So Keith lay quietly, appreciating the company, and concentrated on how it felt to be alive.

“I can make this end, but only if you tell me to,” Shiro said at last. Keith was holding as still as he could, desperate not to jar his injured body, but each inhale was enough to bring new razors of pain. Despite that, he shook his head emphatically and winced at the movement.

“Gotta give the others a chance,” he whispered through his teeth. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to give up.”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s hardly giving up. Life isn’t a game to be won -- you’ve done the best you can. You’ve left a mark on the world that people will remember for a hundred years. The Red Paladin of Voltron. How many countless lives have you saved? Planets freed? You’ve done more in a few years than most do in their whole lives. There’s nothing to be ashamed of; not when it’s your time to move on.”

Keith’s eyes had drifted closed on their own, but now he cast a bloodshot glare at Shiro. “S’ that what you thought when you died? Or are you just coddling me?”

The downcast look was an answer in itself. Time drifted past, marked by ragged breaths from Keith and utter silence, not even inhales, from the white-clad man.

“I didn’t want to die.” Shiro pulled his knees up and hunched on the steps like a gargoyle. He was looking at the blood-speckled pavement between himself and Keith. “I still would rather be alive than... not. But just because I had it rough doesn’t mean you should too. I know how you feel, I  _ know _ , and I want to help. Please, let me.”

Keith licked his lips and tasted thick copper. “Why’d you stick around?” He cracked one eye at Shiro. “After, y’know.”

“To help you when your time came.”

“That’s stupid.”

Shiro afforded him a genuine smile. “No one ever said ghosts were smart.”

“You’re smart.” Keith couldn’t be bothered to think if he was using past or present tense. They seemed the same, right now. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“You sure? Hunk seems awfully nice. I never managed to cook dinner for you.”

“Dinner in the afterlife, huh?” The world was getting cold and dim and Keith felt so very, very sleepy all of a sudden. “Is it a date?”

Not that he expected an answer -- their relationship had always felt deeper than words -- but the utter silence was so complete that his heart skipped a beat. Panic gave Keith strength to open his eyes again, so afraid that he’d guessed wrong and said the wrong thing and Shiro had left him. But no, he was still there. Keith inhaled shakily, a breath that tore at his lungs but soothed his fear.

Shiro was looking out over the ruins, his gaze shifting like there was nothing to hold onto. Keith couldn’t help reaching for him again, wanting to touch him and dissipate some of the sadness, but he could barely move his arm forward.

When Shiro finally spoke, his voice barely sounded above the lonely wind. “There is a lot of stuff I wish I’d done earlier. So many firsts that I didn’t get around to -- too busy, too scared, always hoping for a golden opportunity. I can’t give those to you. I can’t tell you you’re going to be okay. But know this... Keith, I’m going to be with you every step of the way. I’ve left you so many times. I never will again.” 

\----

Keith didn’t quite sleep but he wasn’t fully awake either. The sun crawled overhead, shadows retreating until his legs and back were bathed in light. He expected it to feel warm, but there was no sensation at all. Even the blood pumping out of the hole in his abdomen had slowed to a sluggish trickle.

Maybe he could attempt the stairs now? His eyes shifted past Shiro into the ascending darkness.

No. Why bother?

Keith rested his head again.

“You still hanging on?” Maybe Shiro sounded proud, maybe he was impatient. Keith could barely force his brain to recognize the words, much less the tone.

He coughed and the movement wracked his body hard enough that he cried out. The pain was only getting worse and he was only getting weaker. If the stairs had seemed insurmountable in the beginning, they were even more so now. And it wasn’t hard to know what the encroaching coldness and the dark on the edges of his vision heralded.

Shiro’s light was a beacon to focus on, the glow soft to Keith’s bloodshot eyes. “Shiro...”

The bigger man tilted his head in calm curiosity.

Keith swallowed and gave himself three breaths, four, five to take in Shiro’s features. There was no denying the way he  _ wanted _ . Wanted to run fingers through that white hair and discover if it was as silky as it looked. Trace over solid cheekbones, feel the way eyelids fluttered closed, butterfly-soft, under his fingertips. Press adoring lips to that gentle mouth and taste how it felt to love and be loved.

But now, all he could taste was the blood that filled his mouth. “Shiro,” Keith said again.

“Yes?”

He flicked a hand up as if to brush the frown from the other man’s face. “S’okay. I didn’t want to die like this but --” A shuddering gasp shook his body. “Please. Save me.”

Shiro leaned closer and raised a hand to brush back dark hair from pale skin. His touch felt like ice and Keith shivered but tilted his head to follow the trailing fingertips. The ruined landscape was getting dimmer with each blink; Keith kept his gaze on Shiro, his whole body now glowing with a faint aura.

But the hesitation had left Shiro’s expression and he smiled at Keith, sliding his left hand under his head and cushioning him from the ground.

“I never wanted our first kiss to be like this,” Shiro said, voice as soft as his eyes. “I... I always wanted to kiss you under the stars. Make the moment beautiful for you.”

Keith forced a smile even though it felt like his face was shattered glass. “I’m flattered you thought of me at all.”

“As if I could think of anyone else.” Shiro’s focus dipped to Keith’s lips then back up to meet his eyes. “Keith, I... I love you. And I’m so sorry for all of this.”

He bent down and Keith lay still, shaky breath trembling in his lungs. Against his will, Keith’s eyes sank closed and he felt rather than saw Shiro’s last-second reluctance, heard the way his silent inhale turned into a tiny sob, felt an icy drop touch his cheek and roll down the side of his face. There was so much Keith wanted to say, more than anything, feelings in his chest that the rising pain could never overcome.

_ I’ve loved you for so long. I was a fool for not saying it in time. _

But he felt cool breath on his lips, followed by the press of a mouth carved from ice. Shiro tasted like wind over mountaintops, clean and biting and taking Keith’s breath away.

“Again,” he tried to murmur, but his lungs were paralyzed, frozen. Air refused to enter his gasping mouth. Keith tried to push Shiro away as the other man smothered his lips. There were more tears falling on his face, so cold they crystallized solid before they could roll off. Keith couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find the strength in his numb fingers to push Shiro away.

He struggled only a moment longer before he relaxed and gave in to dizziness. If this was what it was like, he could meet death with dignity. He could face anything at all if only Shiro would keep kissing him. Hands stroked his hair -- one hand metal, one flesh, both equally cold -- and Keith closed his eyes.

Shiro drew back and dropped gentle pecks along the seam of his lips. “Welcome home, Keith.”

A tiny smile curved the mouth under his.

And that was all.

\----

“Hello? Keith? Anyone?” Hunk’s voice rang loudly enough that he cringed inside his armor. The rubble slopes seemed stable for the time being, but it wouldn’t take much to start another avalanche.

The Yellow Lion hovered in the sky above him. While the surface of the planet was still too volatile to allow landing, the addition of one paladin shouldn’t make that much difference. Nevertheless Hunk’s progress was slow, testing every step before he put his full weight forward, every muscle tensed and ready to trigger his jetpack at the first sign of trouble.

“This doesn’t look good,” he muttered. A dull dark trail led through the debris that had once been the Galra base. Blood? Hunk swallowed uneasily and proceeded cautiously forward.

“What’s not good?” Lance’s voice asked in his ear.

“Fingers crossed it’s not --” Hunk stopped abruptly. “Sendak!”

“What?” Lance asked again, shocked. “Hunk, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m... I found Sendak. Or his hand, at least. It looks like he got caught in the avalanche and uh, I don’t think he made it out.”

“Huh. I mean, I guess that’s good. But if he was here all along, that would definitely explain why there were so many extra ships guarding the place.” Lance paused. “Do you think the earthquake had something to do with him? Or with Keith?”

“I don’t know. I’m still looking.”

“Right. Keep me updated.”

The comm shut off and Hunk looked grimly at the ground in front of him. The trail of blood had gotten darker and wider. Whoever was bleeding was in pretty bad shape, but they’d kept going. There was only one person Hunk knew with that kind of determination.

He raised his head, following the trail with his eyes, noticing that it led to a partly-intact staircase built into the mountainside. At the very foot of the steps was the unmistakable shape of a body. Hunk’s stomach sank into his boots but he forced himself forward.

“Keith, that you? Hang in there. I’m sorry we took so long; the battle was a mess. But I’m gonna get you out of here now --”

Hunk’s words died on his tongue and he crashed to his knees, suddenly uncaring of the subtle shifting of the debris around him.

Someone had laid Keith out for burial. His hands were crossed lightly over his abdomen, hiding the source of the blood that soaked his clothes. His face was pale, almost white in contrast to his dark hair, paler even than his broken armor. And on his face was a peaceful expression, faintly smiling, the lines of sorrow and responsibility faded away to a youthful calm.

Hunk called Keith’s name again and again but no one was there to hear.

~  _ fin ~ _

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me at [impendingexodus.tumblr.com](https://impendingexodus.tumblr.com/)!


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